


Take My Breath Away

by pensversusswords



Category: Marvel
Genre: Earth-3490, F/M, First Kiss, Getting Together, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4664418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensversusswords/pseuds/pensversusswords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Steve Rogers has been in love with Natasha Stark for years, and managed to keep it a secret for <i>almost</i> just as long. Almost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take My Breath Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [natashastarkrogers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natashastarkrogers/gifts).



> A belated birthday gift for my darling [Sere](http://natasha-stark-rogers.tumblr.com/). Hope you like it honey, and I'm sorry it's so late!

Steve wasn't exactly surprised that Clint was the one to let it slip.

The whole team was crammed into the living room, all battle weary and holding swaths of gauze to various bloody wounds, occasionally grunting in pain when a fractured rib or a leg wound was agitated. Despite Natasha's complete distaste for this - to the dismay of their host - over the years it had become habit to pile on the couches and watch terrible television until the adrenaline of a fight faded, everyone's bodies overlapping as they sank into the impossibly soft couch cushions.  

On this particular day, they were all tangled on the massive couch Natasha had paid to have embedded into the floor when they all moved in, watching some tawdry reality show that Steve hated, but didn't mind watching with the team. Their commentary made it amusing, and as Steve lost himself in their laughter and banter, he felt the tension that had coiled in his muscles fade away. The deep shoulder wound he'd acquired that day, courtesy of a rather vivacious robot, currently was under the care of Natasha, who was pressing a cloth gently to the weakening blood flow. It had been a deep cut, so Steve wasn't surprised it hadn't stopped bleeding yet, but as with all injuries Steve managed to get he was rather impatient for it to heal so he could be done with it and feel _normal_ again. If it weren't for the way his head was resting on Natasha's thigh while she stanched the blood flow, and the steady thrum of voices around them, he'd probably have gone mad with irritation at this point.

Plus, as always, Natasha's warm presence behind him calmed his nerves; the gentle carding of her fingers through his hair and the light pressure of her gentle hand on his shoulder sent faint tremors down his spine, unwound the tension strung through his body.

Even though, as per usual when it came to the post mission dog pile, Natasha was grumbling about the current state of her living room.

"Every single one of you is bleeding on my fifty thousand dollar couch. Do any of you have fifty thousand dollars to pay for a couch?" Natasha griped under her breath. Steve felt the corner of his mouth quirk up in an a faint smile; he wondered if she knew how many times she'd made that same complaint and had never done a thing about it.

Natasha's complaint earned her a sharp " _shh_ " from Nat and Clint, who didn't take their eyes off the screen, and a sleepy grunt from Bruce who Steve assumed was halfway to crashing anyways. Steve was certain that Thor hadn't even heard her, as he was currently leaning forward on his elbows, staring at the screen with wide, intent eyes.

"My tower and no one even listens to me," Natasha groused. Steve was still laying in her lap, facing away from her face so he couldn't see her expression but he was pretty sure it was the surly half pout that she'd mastered. Steve adored it more than he cared to admit to himself.

"Our tower," Nat corrected idly. Natasha let out an annoyed huff of air.

" _My_ tower," Natasha countered firmly.

Nat ignored her and just settled deeper into the cushions, propping her feet up in Clint's lap, who was reclining on a bed of cushions, one hand splayed protectively over the rib injury he'd obtained earlier. He hardly noticed when Nat placed her feet in his lap, just let his free hand settle on one of her ankles and continued watching.

"You're all horrible," Natasha announced loudly. Steve glanced up at her just as she jabbed a finger at the rest of the team. "I should make you all move out. Or pay rent. What kind of adults live somewhere where they don't have to pay rent?"

"We save the world for a living," Clint said, flashing Natasha a grin. "I think I deserve at least one tower, considering I haven't gotten one free pizza out of this."

"I buy you pizza all the time," Natasha exclaimed.

"Yes, but I have to share," Clint said, stressing the last word with distaste and an exaggerated grimace.

"If you don't want to share then buy your own pizza."

"Avenger," Clint said, pointing at himself. "World saving should get me free tomato sauce and cheese."

As the familiar sounds of the two of them bickering washed over him, Steve felt his eyes flutter shut, a small, contented smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Be nice to the host, Clint," Steve murmured. "What would you do if she turned us out on our asses?"

"I got along just fine before," Clint grunted. "And just because you're in love with her doesn't mean you have to side with her all the time, you know."

It was about then that Steve's entire world stopped.

The TV was still on, filling the room with a low hum of noise, but the rest of them had fallen completely silent, while Steve felt the air rip from his lungs. The hand Natasha had pressed against Steve's shoulder had gone slack, the fingers she had in his hair had stilled.

Without even thinking about it, he shot out of Natasha's lap and into a seated position. The sudden movement caused his shoulder to flare up in white hot agony, dragging a sharp hiss of pain from his lungs. He hardly noticed it however, because he was too busy gaping at Clint, who was sitting with his eyes wide with surprise, lips parted in shock.

Three years Steve had been in love with Natasha, arguably since the first moment he saw her, and for all that time he had not once let it slip how he felt about her. Three years, all gone in a single moment.

The room was awkwardly silent until Natasha broke the silence from where she was sitting behind Steve with a raspy, quiet, "what?"

Steve couldn't even bear to look at her.

"Okay, everyone out," Nat said, swiftly rising to her feet. She reached down and tugged Clint's arm, nudged Bruce's shoulder with her foot. "Except you two," she added, jabbing a finger at Steve and Natasha when Natasha scurried to her feet as if to escape. Steve felt a flush creep over his cheeks; of course she wanted to escape, he couldn't blame her for that in the slightest.

"I have, uh, things to do," Natasha protested, try to inch away.

Nat levelled her with a glare. "Sit."

With a huff of protest, she sat back down. Nat nodded in satisfaction.

"Okay everyone else, out," she said, hustling Bruce and Clint to their feet, Clint still looking abashed and a little surprised at himself. Steve wanted to throttle him. "That means you too Thor," Nat said to the back of his blond head, as he was still intently watching the tv.

At her voice, he turned begrudgingly. "It is of no matter," he conceded. "There is a perfectly adequate television in my own quarters."

With that Nat shooed them out of the room, and as they left Steve heard Clint mumble under his breath "morphine, they gave me morphine, Nat it was the morphine," which Nat shushed firmly.

Finally, they were gone from the room until it was just Steve, Natasha and the television, which was still playing the reality show about some girl and roses in the background.

Steve was good at thinking of strategy. He was good at tactical thinking, manoeuvring himself and the team out of tight situations when there seemed like there was no possible way out. He knew how to think like a Captain, to get himself and his team out of the trickiest situations.

Now he was in a tight spot, and he had no idea how to get out of it.

Natasha was the first one to speak, her voice strained and a little uncertain. "Whatever Clint was talking about, we don't have to talk about if, you know. If you don't want to."

Steve let out the air he had trapped in his lungs, and squeezed his eyes shut. He had to deal with this, there was no way out of it now.

He turned slowly, shifting until he was sitting facing her. It was much worse looking her in the face; her lips were pressed together in a thin line, brows drawn tight together in confusion. Steve felt a pang in his chest at the sight of the angry red gash on her forehead, stitched carefully but still obviously deep and painful. His heart was thudding uncomfortably against his ribcage, his chest tight with anticipation. He had not been prepared for this, for putting Natasha through the trouble of her teammate and friend being hopelessly in love with her.

"We kinda have to, now," Steve said quietly.

Natasha made a face that clearly said she didn't want to. Steve didn't blame her; he was currently wishing he could make a mad dash for the door and pretend this never happened.

Steve let out a short, humourless laugh. "I know."

Natasha grimaced, opened her mouth to talk, and then snapped it shut again. When Steve gestured at her with his hand, his face encouraging, she frowned, before starting to talk in a slow, deliberate voice.

"I never wanted to put you in this position," she admitted, pausing to bite her bottom lip and think for a moment. "It was never supposed to become a problem for you."

Steve frowned, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Natasha huffed out an impatient sigh and brought her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. Her whole body curled forward, her face clouded with something Steve couldn't quite read. Steve ached to reach out and touch her, to hold her close and chase all the confusion away, comfort her and tell her that it was alright.

He wanted to, but he also knew it was probably the worst possible thing he could do at the moment, so he sat still, agonizing over the space between them.

"I know why he said that," she said quietly, very distinctly avoiding Steve's gaze. "Everyone knows, so I guess it was only a matter of time."

"Everyone knows?" Steve blanched. How long had he been foolishly swooning for this woman while the rest of their friends watched him make a fool out of himself? "Even you?"

Natasha smiled at that, but it was a small, sad smile, one that didn't quite meet her eyes. "I didn't know at first, but yeah. I've known for a while."

"Shit," Steve breathed.

Natasha flinched, then hunched her shoulders up in a shrug. "I know. I know it's pathetic, but what can you do?"

Steve felt like someone was squeezing his heart in two vicious, cruel hands. "Pathetic?" he repeated weakly.

Natasha finally looked at him then, her blue eyes so sad and tired. As always, Steve's stomach swooped when their eyes met, but now it was tinged with faint sadness. He was about to lose her.

"Come on, Steve," she whispered, brokenly, "don't make me explain why one of us is too good for the other."

Steve couldn't help it; a pained noise of surprise caught in his throat. He felt a little dizzy. Yes, he'd thought the same thing many times, but to actually hear it from her mouth felt like a sword through his gut.

"Right," he choked.

Surprisingly, when Steve spoke a flash of hurt hovered over Natasha's face for a moment, and Steve felt something hot and feral flash through his veins; she wasn’t the one being dismissed right now. The expression didn’t last long though, it was quickly wiped away with a faux casual smile.

"Well at least we have that straightened out," she said drily. "I knew it was only a matter of time before Clint hit his head and blabbed about my feelings, but I never expected-"

"What?" Steve cut her off, his voice a bit too loud and more than a little confused. "Your feelings?"

Natasha narrowed her eyes. "We don't have to talk about it," she said in a tone that clearly said she didn't want to talk about it.

"Clint said that I'm in love with you," Steve pressed on, ever stubborn. "What does that have to do with your feelings?"

Natasha's full body flinched back at the sound of his voice and her eyes squeezed shut. "Wow it's really is a lot worse hearing it from you."

Steve didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't. He just waited patiently for her to continue.

"Yes, I know what he said," she continued, finally, "but he was drugged up and everyone knows that Clint's shitty sense of humour gets worse when he's on morphine."

"True," Steve murmured.

"A bit cruel to say that though. I think," Natasha went on, "since he knows that I would do anything for it to be true."

Steve blinked at her for a long moment.

"I have to admit something," he said slowly, deliberately forming each syllable with care . "I have no idea what's going on."

"What's going on is that _I'm_ leaving, _we're_ going to pretend that this never happened, and that you know nothing-" Natasha started scrambling to her feet, and Steve followed.

"I really don't know anything. What is going on-"

"Okay that's enough, I'm gone, I need to go blow things up in the shop-"

"Wait. Natasha, are you in love with me?"

Natasha had been in a hurry to escape the room, her bare feet sinking into the softness of the floor as she scampered across the absurdly large couch. At Steve's voice she froze instantly, almost comically, and slowly turned, her face creased with confusion.

"Of course I'm in love with you, what the hell did you think we were talking a-"

It took Steve three long strides to reach Natasha, to stand in front of her and bring his hands up to gently cup her face with tentative fingers and rest his thumbs against the crest of her cheekbones. Her eyes went wide at the contact, her hands coming up to grip his forearms with intensity.

"Why on earth," Steve murmured, "would Clint say that I'm in love with you, if he was talking about you?"

Steve watched as Natasha swallowed thickly. "To make fun of me?"

"Natasha, that makes no sense."

Natasha shrugged sheepishly.

"Really," Steve said, "that makes no sense, that is not why he said it."

"Care to enlighten me?" Natasha asked feebly. "I have a weak heart you know, Steve, and whatever the hell is going on right now is probably going to kill me before I understand what's-"

Steve leaned in, halting when he was close enough to her face that he could feel her gentle breath ghosting across his skin, could see the faint redness in her eyes from lack of sleep. He kept one hand firmly on her face and dropped the other to her waist, bringing their bodies together, so they were pressed close enough that Steve could feel the line of her smaller, leanly muscled body against  his own. Natasha blinked up at him, completely still, but Steve could feel her heart stuttering against his chest.

"May I?" he whispered.

Instead of answering, Natasha released her grip on his arms and flew forward, throwing her arms around his neck as she frantically pressed her lips to his. Steve let out a surprised noise and bit back a groan of pain from the ache in his shoulder, but immediately tightened his hold on her. His fingers  began  threading through her short, mussed hair, his other hand heavy on her waist. He held her close and let her kiss him, allowing her to take his breath away with her soft lips and allowed the scent of her - smoke and grime from battle, and that warm, musky scent she always wore just underneath - to wash over him.

Natasha leaned most of her weight into him, probably unintentionally, but he found that he loved the comforting weight of her in his arms, like she was anchoring him and keeping him grounded with her body, with her touch. Her arms remained tight around his neck as her lips explored his, kissing him firmly and softly all at the same time.

Somehow they ended up sitting down on the couch again, right around the time Steve's shoulder groaned in protest and Natasha seemed to immediately pick up on it. Natasha ended up sitting in his lap with her legs wrapped around his waist, peppering soft kisses to his cheeks, his neck, and finally, lingering sweetly on his mouth. It might have been a compromising position for someone to walk in on, except for the fact that the urgency of their kiss had faded into something that smouldered softly; Steve stroke his fingers up and down her spine, and when he kissed her lips it was sweetly, as if he were drinking in the taste of her. There was no panting or writhing, which might have been nice, but Steve loved this moment just as it was.

When Natasha pulled away, it was only to lean forward and press her forehead against Steve's, her eyes fluttering shut. Their breaths mingled together as Steve stared at her, memorizing every slope and curve of her face, reading one hand out to map the lines of her face with his fingertips. Natasha sighed softly at his gentle touch, making a contented smile turn up the corners of Steve's mouth.

"I hope you've realized by now that I'm hopelessly in love with you," Steve murmured.

Natasha's eyes opened and Steve's fingers stilled, lingering on her temple as his palm pressed against her cheek. Her eyes were searching as she stared at him, her mouth pressed carefully in an uncertain line.

Eventually she nodded, and Steve knew his smile was brilliant because the one that Natasha returned to him was enough to replace the sun. He was powerless to stop himself from leaning in and tasting that smile from his mouth.

"I'm still going to kill Clint," she grumbled against his lips.

Steve laughed. "I'll help you."

"Of course you will," Natasha agreed, grinning at him before darting in for another kiss.

"Later though," Steve insisted. Absolutely no part of him wanted to move right now, not when he was bathing in the warmth of Natasha's skin, memorizing the feeling of her lips against his own.

"Later," she echoed, and kissed him again like she was drowning and he was air. Steve let her take and take what she wanted, and he thought that even once he ran out of air to give, he would still want to give her more.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](http://pensversusswords.tumblr.com/).


End file.
